


@ArizonaCoyotes tweeted: Sup?

by pinkmanite2 (Pinkmanite)



Series: we make it work. [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Reaction, can be read as standalone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 18:18:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17688455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkmanite/pseuds/pinkmanite2
Summary: “Give me something fun to play against out there,” Ryan winks, starts heading off the ice.Vinnie shakes his head, grin still wide. “Have a good game, Hartzy.”





	@ArizonaCoyotes tweeted: Sup?

**Author's Note:**

> a reaction to [this cursed tweet](https://twitter.com/arizonacoyotes/status/1092951392119967744) with this cursed picture:
> 
>  

They don’t get to see each other before the game.

It’s kind of shitty, because Vinnie’s practically buzzing with his wants — to see him, to touch him, to hear his voice. He knows he just talked to him on the FaceTime the other day, but it’s not the same as having him right there in front of him, no tinny static or fuzzy connections between them.

Besides, they don’t talk nearly as much anymore, and Vinnie’s pretty set on taking his fill now, even if he knows deep down that it probably won’t be enough to last him until the next time they’re together.

He scrapes up what he can get, savors the pieces, and tries very, very hard not to get hung up on it.

(It’s not easy.)

Ryan texts him for a bit before either of them have to be at the rink. It’s comfortable, it flows, that part never changes, and Vinnie’s a little grateful for that. But it’s not the same as seeing him, for the first time in _weeks,_ when he used to see him almost every minute of every day. It’s weird, and it never won’t be weird, but Vinnie isn’t so picky these days.

So he skates out for warmups, twisting in his chest. He’s not sure if it’s nerves or anticipation or excitement, or a combination. He focuses on pushing that all down, so he can make the most of every second he has with Ryan.

There’s a few drills, some actual warming up he’s got to do, but he eventually floats to his — _their —_  spot by the boards, center ice.

It’s kind of dumb, the way they try to make it look nonchalant, but it’s what they do, it’s their plan, their routine, so Vinnie gets to stretching.

It isn’t long before Ryan joins him, and Vinnie really can’t help it, feels the grin on his face before it even registers what it means.

“Hey stranger,” Ryan grins right back.

“I’m not supposed to fraternize with the enemy,” Vinnie says, the warning tone all teasing.

Ryan fakes him out, almost crosses over the line, and laughs when Vinnie stares him down. He ends up settling in the spot opposite, a mirror of Vinnie, arbitrarily stretching out, too.

He isn’t wearing a helmet, and Vinnie definitely takes the opportunity to give him shit for it, even points out the next puck that goes flying in misdirection. But it’s not really a secret that Vinnie loves the way Ryan’s hair falls around his face. And even if it was, Vinnie doesn’t really do much to hide his staring.

Ryan does say anything, but Vinnie knows him, knows that he knows and probably did it with him in mind. Today, at least.

They chat for a bit, swap some light chirps, laugh a little. It’s almost been an entire year, yet it still feel weird, seeing Ryan in a different sweater. Having to play _against_ him, instead of at his side.

It still feels wrong, and Vinnie doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it.

Nonetheless, the clock winds down and guys are slowly heading off the ice. Vinnie wants to tell Ryan to stay until the last second, wants to hoard every last moment he can, but he knows that now is not the time.

They’ll have time later, lots of time later, and although Vinnie knows it won’t ever be long enough, he tries to use that reminder to let himself pull away.

“Give me something fun to play against out there,” Ryan winks, starts heading off.

Vinnie shakes his head, grin still wide. “Have a good game, Hartzy.”

  


~

 

Honestly, if it were just between the two of them, Vinnie would’ve guessed that Ryan would’ve been the one to open up the scoring. But he surprises himself, buries one late in the first, and is swarmed by teammates, swung easily into celebratory hugs.

He hasn’t felt the urge in a while, but it’s here now: the instinct to look for Ryan, to bump the helmets together, yell in his ear.

Vinnie doesn’t find Ryan in the celly but he spots him on the bench, glove hiding most of his face, but the little upturn of a smile at the corner of his eyes more than telling enough.

 

~

 

It’s a tough loss, so Vinnie tries to be quiet and quick when he drops his shit off at the hotel. He’s in and out, hood of his jacket pulled over his head while he goes back out front. He checks his phone, checks Find My Friends, and sure enough, Ryan’s little dot is rounding the corner. Soon enough, a familiar truck is pulling into the half-circle drive, with those boring white-blue Illinois plates that he’s so used to, awkwardly out of place at the front of the car.

He’s quick, slides into the passenger seat without much other preamble. He’s sat in this very spot a million times before, and it feels like home, but somehow still wrong all at once.

“Hey,” Ryan says, fingertips tapping the steering wheel to the bass. “You looked great out there.”

Vinnie shoves his hood off, shrugs.

“You look good right here.”

And Ryan sighs, bittersweet. He won’t look him in the eye, but he’s wearing a half-smile, melancholy. Vinnie looks away.

It’s just the radio for a minute, long enough for the current song to fade out into the next. But then Ryan clears his throat, waits until Vinnie looks at him again.

“I missed you.”

And maybe Vinnie’s heart doesn’t sink so far down after all.

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> as long as I am writing hockey rpf I will not let this ship die!! you will have to pry it from my cold dead hands!!!


End file.
